Jamie Tzioumis commutes wearing a “Baby on Board” button, part of a new courtesy campaign aimed at helping pregnant, older and disabled riders. Does the button work on a crowded train? According to Ms. Tzioumis, not really.CreditCreditChristian Hansen for The New York Times

The friendly woman who noticed Mary Alice Dadras’s rounded belly on the No. 2 train in Manhattan recently had lots of questions. When was the baby due? Oh, twins? Were they boys or girls?

The one question she didn’t ask, as Ms. Dadras stood before her: Would you like my seat?

Nobody who uses the New York City subway with any regularity would ever expect the ride to be a paragon of politesse. But for Ms. Dadras, whose twins (boys, for those wondering) are due in November, the non-offer was especially disappointing, given the blue and yellow button she had pinned to her bag in hopes of securing a seat. “BABY ON BOARD!” it declared in bold letters. And, underneath, a reminder: “Courtesy counts.”

The button is part of a new campaign by the Metropolitan Transportation Authority to encourage New York’s famously surly commuting class to give up seats for passengers who are pregnant, older or have a disability. (Other campaigns focused on promoting civil conduct have targeted “manspreading” and spitting.) Another version of the button says simply, “Please offer me a seat.”

Since the pilot program started in May, the transit agency has distributed about 21,500 of the Oreo-cookie-size buttons, which can be requested online, according to Shams Tarek, a spokesman for the agency. The program was supposed to run through Labor Day, but transit officials recently decided to extend it indefinitely to evaluate whether the program is effective.

Button-wearers, or at least many of them, have an answer for them: It’s not.

Ms. Dadras got her button in June, before her growing stomach became obvious. She thought the button would help passengers skirt the awkward speculation of whether she was, in fact, pregnant, she said. She wore it to alert the riding public that, yes, she was, and that she would like a seat.

“I stopped about two weeks ago,” said Ms. Dadras, who commutes from Queens to Lower Manhattan to her job as a director at the Trust for Public Land, a conservation group. “I thought my belly was doing the talking for me now. I hadn’t really received any seats, so I figured I would just move on.”

Heidi Kristoffer, who lives in Manhattan and works as a yoga instructor, said she stopped wearing her button after realizing that it elicited more eye rolls than offers of seats.

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The Metropolitan Transportation Authority says it has distributed over 21,000 buttons since the program launched in May.

CreditChristian Hansen for The New York Times

“I think the people that would move, would move regardless,’’ she said. “And the people that are just not having it are not having it.”

Jamie Tzioumis, 35, a chef and yoga instructor from Brooklyn, still wears her button, but she also aggressively makes sure commuters are aware of her situation — she will stick her belly in their faces, she said.

She has also learned the power of strategic button placement.

“Sometimes I’ll put it on my breasts,” said Ms. Tzioumis, whose first child is due in January. “They’re getting bigger, so they’ll grab some attention.”

While pregnant riders can at least hope that their bodies might be enough to prompt a polite response, many disabled riders, another population targeted by the button campaign, say that is not always the case for them.

Shannon Barnsley was thrilled when she first heard about the button campaign on a Facebook group for New Yorkers with invisible disabilities, which include chronic illnesses and other conditions that may not be physically apparent, but still make it difficult for people to stand in a shaky, crowded subway car.

But when the yellow “Please offer me a seat” button arrived in the mail, Ms. Barnsley, 28, was immediately unsure of whether it would help people understand why she might ask for a seat. There was no mention of disabilities on the pin, said Ms. Barnsley, who has postural tachycardia syndrome, which leads to lightheadedness and seizures.

“I feel kind of awkward using it,” she said. “Part of the problem with invisible disabilities is people aren’t aware of them, so the button not really making anyone aware of it doesn’t really help.”

Ms. Barnsley said part of the issue might be that she has not seen any public service announcements explaining the purpose of the buttons. She compared the campaign to a similar one on the subway in London, which she has seen on social media and that the transit authority has cited as inspiration. In London, Ms. Barnsley said, the transit agency clearly included invisible disabilities in its campaign. The buttons, which have the same wording as the ones in New York, come with cards that say, “Remember, not all disabilities and conditions are visible.”

“I want people to know that I didn’t just make a pin to demand a seat,” she said, adding that she has taken to wearing her pin next to a medic alert tag on her bag.

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Kathy Liu, who has a condition that causes lightheadedness and seizures, wears a “Please Offer Me a Seat’' button while riding the subway. She managed to find a seat, which she said was unusual. “New York is a mean place,’' she said.

CreditChristian Hansen for The New York Times

Kathy Liu, who has the same condition as Ms. Barnsley, said she once boarded a crowded subway after being released from a hospital. Not only was she wearing her button, she said, but she was also wearing a heart monitor. No one offered her a seat, so she sat on the floor.

“I really feel like it doesn’t work,” Ms. Liu, 24, said with a laugh. “Not because of the button. It’s because New York is a mean place.”

Subway officials did not respond to questions about how the agency would measure the program’s success, or how it had advertised the buttons. A news release announcing the program in May said it would be integrated into existing courtesy campaigns through transit system advertisements and social media.

Mitchell Moss, director of the Rudin Center for Transportation Policy and Management at New York University, said it should come as little surprise that New Yorkers are not giving up their seats. On an increasingly over burdened subway system, with millions of riders cramming into its aging cars daily and constant delays upending people’s lives, offering a seat to another passenger is the last thing on most people’s minds, he said.

“In the New York City subway, sometimes it’s a competition just to get into the train,’’ he said. “The question of a seat comes in as a secondary goal.”

And regardless of whether New Yorkers are a particularly unfriendly demographic — which Mr. Moss acknowledged was a possibility, noting that “this is not a sentimental city” — there are practical problems, too, he said. The button’s intended targets might be seated with their eyes several feet below where a standing passenger has it displayed; those eyes are probably also fixed on a book or, more likely, a screen.

“People do not use the subway for eye contact,” Mr. Moss said.

He added: “The people at the M.T.A. know how to run trains. I think they may not understand the behavior of the riders.”

For her part, Ms. Tzioumis seems to have figured out a way to navigate that behavior. She has taken to outright asking for a seat.

“I stopped being really timid about it — I don’t think there’s any point,” she said. “And I try not to say thank you more than once, because I don’t feel like it should be something that should be super-celebrated because they happened to give me their seat.”

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A25 of the New York edition with the headline: Hoping in Vain That a Button Will Lead to a Subway Seat. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe